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Wind, please come and blow on me so I can shake Uncle Wiggily's hat to him, and then I won't have to be gnawed down. Please blow, Mr. Wind." So the wind hurried back and blew the tree this way and that. Down toppled Uncle Wiggily's hat, not in the least hurt, and so everything was all right again, and Uncle Wiggily and Grandpa Goosey and Toodle Flat-tail were happy.
So, though the pine tree was to blame, in a way, for Uncle Wiggily's fall, it also helped in the mending of his coat. Soon the coat was almost as good as new and you could hardly tell where it was torn. And Uncle Wiggily, kindly thanking the ants, went on to Grandpa Goosey's party and had a fine time and also some ice cream.
So the little brown bird put her beak in the holes in Uncle Wiggily's leg, where the bullets had gone in, and she pulled every one out. It hurt a little, but Uncle Wiggily did not make a fuss. "There," said Mrs. Wren, "that is done." Then Dr. Possum put some salve on the leg and bound it up, promising to come in next day to see how Uncle Wiggily was getting on.
Possum ran back into his office, got a big bottle of medicine, which he gave to Nurse Jane, saying: "When you get back to the hollow-stump bungalow pull out the cork and rub some on Uncle Wiggily's pain." "Rub the cork on?" asked Nurse Jane, sort of surprised like. "No, rub on some of the medicine from the bottle," answered Dr. Possum, laughing as he hurried off.
So off they started from Uncle Wiggily's bungalow, and when they came to a place where there were two paths through the woods, Curly Tail said: "Now, Flop Bar, you go one way and I'll go the other, and we will see who first meets with an adventure."
But, alas! Uncle Wiggily's nice red coat was all tattered and torn. "Oh, whatever shall I do?" cried Uncle Wiggily as the wolf ran away down the hill and the rabbit looked at the torn and ripped coat. "I never can go on seeking my fortune with a torn coat." "I am sorry," said the bee, "but I can not help you. But if you see the tailor bird she may mend your coat for you."
"I haven't played ball in years, and years, and years." "Well," went on the fairy, with a laugh, "no matter. It will come to you," and you may not believe me, but if that golden ball didn't float right down into Uncle Wiggily's hands. He had to drop his crutch to catch it. "Now," proceeded the red fairy, "do you want to see me do something magical to prove that I am wonderful, and a real fairy?"
I haven't even any paper with which to make me a paper house, but if I could only get across to the wooden house, I'd be safe." And, just as he spoke, there came a little puff of wind, and lo and behold! a nice piece of paper was blown right down out of a tree, where it had been caught on a branch. Right at Uncle Wiggily's side it fell; that paper did. "Oh, joy!" the rabbit gentleman cried.
And the little boy patted him on the back, and stroked his long ears. Now, in the story after this I'll tell you what happened to Uncle Wiggily at the little boy's house, and in case our door key doesn't get locked out, and have to sleep in the park, you are going to hear about Uncle Wiggily in a boat. "Poor rabbit!" exclaimed the little boy in the automobile, as he rubbed Uncle Wiggily's ears.
She put her crooked, crumpled horn, which was just like a corkscrew, in the cork, and, with one twist, out it came from the bottle as easily as anything. Then Nurse Jane could rub some medicine on Uncle Wiggily's rheumatism, which soon felt much better. So you see Mother Goose's crumpled-horn cow can do other things besides tossing cat-worrying dogs.
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